The Lady Sparrow
by barrels-are-evil
Summary: "...Not so much on the 'lady' now, will ya?" "My apologies, my la-" "Oi, you're doing it again!" "I am unsure what I should call you, Miss Jacqueline..." "Bah, just call me Jack, or Jackie, if you must. Savvy?" Fem!Jack
1. Prologue: A Pirate's Life for Me

**Summary: …The title speaks for itself, really. Covers the entire Curse of The Black Pearl.**

**Warning: Rule 63, applied to two of our main characters, and AU. Character dynamics and scenes from the movie were purposely altered by the Authoress in order to fit in with the story. May contain some inappropriate words as well. And due to the Authoress not having a beta for this story, she might've made mistakes, be it in grammar or spelling. Read at your own risk. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: Applying to the future chapters as well, I do not own POTC. (but that would be awesome~)**

**AN: …Don't hit me, please. I know this story must come off as weird to some of you, but I couldn't help it XD I just HAD to bring this plot-bunny to life, seeing that there're already a few (emphasis on '**_**few'**_**) POTC fanfics with the same idea behind them. I apologize firsthand for any mistakes I might've made in this fic, be it in storyline, grammar and/or spelling since English is my third language. (not to mention that I'm not exactly familiar with pirate speak or 16****th**** century way of speaking in general) Feedback will be appreciated, and flames will be used to destroy the evil barrels.**

* * *

**Prologue: A Pirate's Life For Me**

In the midst of the ocean's utter stillness, a grand ship silently cuts its way through the mist, sailing gracefully on top of the dark water. A singing voice echoed in the air.

"_Drink up, me hearties, yo ho. We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up, me hearties, yo ho. Yo, ho, yo, ho. A pirate's life for me."_

The singer stared at the endless sea in front as the song continues.

"_We extort, we pilfer, we filch, we sack. We-"_ A gasp broke through the singer's throat as a large hand grabbed the singer's shoulder roughly.

"Quiet, boy!" A bearded, harried man chided him harshly, eyeing the surrounding sea warily, "Cursed pirates sail these waters! You don't want to bring them down on us now, do ya?"

"Mr. Gibbs, that will do," Another man, one who looked to be of an important position on the ship, cut off the older man's words, his tone stern and commanding.

He turned around to protest, "But he was singing about pirates! Bad luck to be singing about pirates with us mired in this unnatural fog! Mark my words."

"Consider them marked," the man stated dryly and inclined his head to the side, not interested in holding a longer conversation than necessary with the sailor, "On your way."

Gibbs nodded stiffly, "Aye, Lieutenant." He made his way down to the decks, grumbling under his breath as he sneakily took a flask out of his jacket, "Bad luck to have a mere _boy_ on board, too."

"I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate." The boy chimed, staring intently at the man addressed as Lieutenant. He smiled as he assessed the boy's appearance—large dark eyes sparkling with childish innocence, neatly combed brown hair which seemed to be turning blonde in some parts, small of stature but back straight, clad in finely tailored clothes of the higher caste—and chuckled a little, amused at such a bold statement from a boy who knew nothing of the dangers that would come should he be in the presence of the ones he wanted to meet.

Lightly ruffling the boy's hair—to an indignant pout from said boy—he intoned, "Think again, Elijah. Vile, dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves," he paused, "A short drop and a sudden stop."

Elijah tilted his head curiously at the sentence, and was about to ask the man the meaning of it when he caught Gibbs' stare. Turning to look at him, his eyes widened in understanding as Gibbs grabbed his own scarf and tilted his head upwards, mimicking a familiar and feared gesture.

_The hangman's noose._

His horror at the nonchalant statement immediately died down as another man, also garbed in clothes as fine as, if not more so, than his own and wearing the ghastly curly wig which signified his standing in the English government, made his way to speak to Norrington.

"Lieutenant Norrington, I appreciate your fervor, but I'm concerned about the effect this subject will have upon my son," he stated as he placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. Norrington nodded stiffly, "My apologies, sir." Making his way down from the bow, he mouthed a more playful 'sorry' at the boy, and grinned as he stuck his tongue out in return.

Not one to give up on the subject easily, Elijah turned to speak to his father instead, "Actually, I find it all fascinating."

His father sighed in exasperation, "Yes, that's what concerns me." Not wanting to entertain the subject any longer, the man also made his way down, leaving his son standing alone on the ship's bow. His cheeks puffed out slightly in dissatisfaction at being ignored, the boy turned around to stare out into the open sea once more. And almost immediately, his sharp eyes caught sight of something floating on the water.

Squinting slightly to make out the object, Elijah's eyes sparkled in wonder as he recognized it as a parasol, the ones he often saw being held by noblewomen and the daughters of officials from the royal court alike.

'But why is it floating on the sea?' He wondered. He watched the parasol float off and nearly moved away in dismissal of the insignificant object, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something even more out-of-place than the parasol, and his eyes widened as he turned towards it. Is that…?

Elijah yelled as he pointed out, "Look! A boy! There's a boy in the water!"

Alarmed by the sudden yell, Lieutenant Norrington along with his father and the other sailors immediately looked towards the direction he pointed out, and true to his word, there was indeed a boy floating on the water, lying on top of a piece of driftwood.

Norrington immediately barked out orders at the sailors, "Man overboard! Man the ropes! Fetch a hook! Haul him aboard!"

Elijah held his breath as the boy was hauled out of the water and laid out on the deck, and only after Norrington exclaimed that the boy was still breathing did he exhale in relief. But at Gibbs' horrified "Mary, Mother of God!" he turned back towards the grizzled man, and his eyes widened in as he saw what had brought the holy name out of the usually unflappable man's mouth.

He stood there along with all the other sailors who had also rushed to see what had caught Gibbs' attention, and they collectively gained the same look of horror on their faces. For right in front of them, was the burning remains of what used to be a ship.

Elijah distantly heard his father questioning the lieutenant about what had possibly happened here, the words 'powder magazine', 'merchant vessel', and 'heavily armed' thrown around, but he hardly paid any attention to them. His eyes were riveted to the horrifying scene, the smell of burning wood along with an unfamiliar scent froze him to the spot. It smells distinctly familiar though, reminding him of the aroma wafting around the kitchen whenever their cook roasted meats for dinner…

His stomach roiled.

The sickening image his mind conjured up was thankfully interrupted by Gibbs' words.

"Pirates!"

He looked at the man in shock, did pirates really do something this horrifying? Shaking his head to get rid of the thought, he chose to focus on the boy he found instead, who was now lying on the deck, alone and unattended. He jumped slightly as his father laid a hand on top of his shoulder and bent down to his eye level.

"Elijah, I want you to accompany the boy," his father let his eye linger on the unconscious lad, "He'll be in your charge. Take care of him."

Numbly, he nodded, and his father smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

* * *

Norrington and a few other sailors set to the boats and rowed to the burning wreck, in the hope of finding more survivors other than the unknown boy.

They didn't find any.

* * *

Elijah stared at the still boy curiously, taking in every detail. He had dark hair, slightly tanned skin turned pale from the chilly seawater, and he seemed to come from a commoner's background, if the worn shirt and rough brown vest he wore were any indication. A pang of pity hit him, for the boy surely must have had a family member lost in the shipwreck. He extended a hand to brush away the matted hair sticking to the boy's forehead…

…and nearly yelped when the boy caught his wrist, gripping it with an almost bruising force. Forcing his erratic heartbeat to calm down, he tried to reassure the boy, "It's okay," he said softly, "My name's Elijah Swann."

The boy choked out in return, "W-Will Turner."

Elijah smiled, relieved that the boy seemed fine, "I'm watching over you, Will. You're safe now."

The boy, Will, could only let a flash of gratitude appear in his eyes before falling unconscious once again. Elijah smiled again, for the boy must be tired, before his eye caught sight of something under his shirt. Unable to curb his curiosity, he slid a hand to pull the object out, and it revealed itself as a medallion, attached to a chain.

Taking the medallion into his palm, Elijah studied it critically, brows furrowed in concentration as he struggled to identify it. It's made of gold, _real_ gold judging by its weight (which was just odd, how did such a valuable item end up around the neck of a boy the likes of him?), and intricately carved designs were etched upon it. The most eye-catching carving on the medallion, however, was of a snarling human skull, right in the center of it. Elijah's eyes widened in recognition of the symbol, and he gasped out.

"You're a _pirate!_"

"Has he said anything?"

He nearly jumped at the sudden question. Hiding the medallion in his jacket pocket as he turned around to face Norrington, Elijah decided to lie through his teeth, "His name's William Turner. That's all I found out."

Elijah nearly sighed in relief as Norrington nodded distractedly—it seems that the man hadn't detected his lie—and stepped aside as the man ordered for the boy to be taken below. The medallion in his pocket seemed to weigh him down as he watched the boy being carried away.

* * *

Elijah was once again standing alone at the bow of the ship as it sailed away, leaving the wreckage behind. Slowly, he brought out the medallion taken from the mysterious Will Turner, and held it up. He continued to stare at the piece of gold, his mind troubled by the revelation of the boy's possible origin.

_Give it back._

He looked away from the medallion as an uneasy feeling descended upon him. And he saw it.

Sailing away, just some distance from their own ship, was another.

_Black sails and a flag emblazoned with crossbones._

His eyes snapped open.

* * *

A blond-haired young man sat up immediately in his bed, breathing harshly. Wiping his sweaty brow, his dark eyes immediately zeroed in on the drawer next to his bed. Memories of the night came back to him, clear and vivid, as though the dream was more than just a dream. The uneasy feeling persisted.

"_I feel like…"_

He quickly rummaged through the drawer, lifting an old, dusty book and revealing the item hidden beneath it. With slightly shaky hands, he picked it up.

"…_something bad is going to happen."_

The snarling skull carved on gold stared soullessly back into his eyes.


	2. Chapter 1: An Arrival

***This is still a half-and-a-quarter finished (maybe? it depends), but I want to get this chapter out as fast as possible, so I hope you guys will be satisfied with this as I type up the rest of it and fix whatever mistake I might've made before posting the finalized chapter 1! I'll update the remaining parts as soon as possible, though :) **** So stay tuned for the updated chapter anytime this week!***

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_**Chapter 1: An Arrival**_

Elijah Swann could swear on his life, he had had no intention at all to do so, but the next thing he knew, the long chain was already draped around his neck. Glancing at a tall mirror opposite his bed, his reflection sat, bare-chested as he had discarded his sleep shirt the night before, and he idly wondered why the medallion felt just right against his skin. It was as if he was meant to wear it…

Before he could ponder on the thought for long, though, a knock on the door caused him to jump.

"Elijah? Are you decent?"

"One second, father!" He yelled in reply as he hastily scrambled for the billowy white shirt at the foot of his bed, slipping it on and over his body to conceal the token on his chest, as he hadn't enough time to take the blasted thing off. It's enough that his father, the governor that he was, was already very concerned with his interest in the seafarers, it wouldn't do for him to see his son wearing their symbol, of all things.

"Is it alright if I come in now?" Governor Weatherby Swann's exasperated voice rang out once again, tinged with amusement. Once the medallion was safely concealed under his clothes, he quickly replied, "Yes, father!"

The door swung open and his father, already dressed in his finest clothes with the flamboyant wig (he'd be damned if he was made to wear the abomination any time soon) atop his head, shook said ghastly wig along with his head as he addressed his only child, "Still abed at this hour?" Weatherby smiled, mirth creeping on his aged face as he watched his son cringe at the sunlight streaming in through the windows that the blushing maids had thrown open. "It's a beautiful day."

"Ah, yes, it is…" He replied, but he was more interested in his father's next action as he gestured towards a manservant. His eyebrows lifted at the clothes in the manservant's arms, they looked brand-new and, of course, must be hideously expensive. Before he could inquire any further though, his father spoke, "This is my gift for you."

"Uh, it's…exquisite, father…" Though inwardly he cringed, he was never one for overly-priced, thick, uncomfortable clothes that made you sweat buckets underneath all the damned layers, and this suit was exactly that. He had to keep that opinion to himself, though, so he forced his distaste out of his voice as he asked, "May I inquire as to the occasion?"

"Does a father need an occasion to dote upon his child?"

He rolled his eyes as his manservant urged him behind a screen door to change, "Seeing that it's you, father, I do believe so. You do know how I feel about these things, don't you?"

Weatherby laughed at the reply this time, "As astute as always, Elijah. I could never sneak anything past you." He could all but feel his son's eye-roll from behind the screen door, and another smile crept upon his face, "Actually, that is for you to wear to the ceremony today."

"Ceremony? What ceremony?" Is his son's question, and he answered, "Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony."

A gasp was heard, and the still half-dressed Elijah popped his head out, "I knew it! No wonder he's being so secretive towards Will and I lately!"

"Commodore Norrington, as he's about to become. I'm surprised that he didn't tell the two of you, the friends that you three are."

Elijah snorted, making his way out from behind the doors as he shrugged his arm into a shirtsleeve, "Most likely he just wants us to be surprised so he could gloat over it later."

Shaking his head in amusement at the mock bitterness in the statement, he stopped before giving a reply as another servant made his way into the room and bowed, "My Lord, you have a visitor."

"Thank you, I'll be there shortly," Weatherby replied, before turning back to face his son again, "You had better get ready quicker, Elijah. I'll wait for you in the foyer."

Elijah's sarcastic reply as he left the room amused him even more, "As soon as I can finish with all the buttons on this torture device, father."

* * *

In the hallway of the large mansion, a young man with dark, pony-tailed hair paced restlessly, a long box tucked under his arms and brown eyes skimming over the intricate ornaments decorating the halls, before finally settling on a brass light fixture on the wall next to him. Suddenly fascinated with its detailed metalwork, he lightly grasped the fixture, and the resounding snap as it broke under his hands nearly made him jump. Hastily discarding the broken part into a vase, he straightened up and gave a strained smile towards a servant passing by.

"Ah, William! Good to see you again." He nearly jumped again, and gave himself a mental kick for not being more aware. Casting a brief worried look at the vase, he smiled in greeting at the kind governor making his way towards him, "Good day, sir."

Placing the box he carried on a table, he added, "I have your order," Opening the box, he presented the sword laying inside, handing it with a flourish towards the older man. Letting out a hum of approval, he drew the sword out of its scabbard, admiring the craftsmanship as Will starts to speak of its defining details.

"The blade is folded steel. That's gold filigree laid into the handle," Seeing the man start to examine the sword critically, Will extended his hands politely, "If I may?"

Politely without a word, Weatherby passed the sword back to the young man and paid rapt attention as Will spoke with an almost reverent tone, "Perfectly balanced. The tang is nearly the width of the blade." He backed away in surprise when Will suddenly flipped the sword through the air, and he watched, impressed, as the man caught it with an expert ease that he couldn't help but praise.

"Impressive… Very impressive," Weatherby dared not look Will in the eyes as he placed the sword back into its box for fear of the laugh in his throat making its way out, "Commodore Norrington's going to be very pleased with this."

Will paused as the implication of that statement hit him, and before he could stop it, a small shout left his lips, "Commodore Norrington-!" Clamping his mouth shut before he could finish his yell, the man bowed, horrified at his rudeness, "I-I apologize, sir!"

Unable to hide his amusement anymore, the old man let out a laugh, "Ah, no need to fret, Will. I completely understand since Elijah reacted quite similarly, this is quite the news, isn't it?"

The young man smiled back in relief even as he swore inwardly at a certain man's cheek in hiding this big a news from him, "Yes it is, sir. Elijah and I certainly aren't aware of it, but can you excuse me if I assumed that his promotion was made final when you commissioned me for that sword last month?"

Coughing into his palm, Weatherby replied, "Right on the head, William."

"What?! So you have known all along, father? And you kept it a secret from the two of us?" Their conversation was interrupted by the yell from the staircase. Craning their heads towards the direction, both of their eyebrows lifted at the blond-haired man rapidly descending the stairs, still not completely dressed, with his waistcoat unbuttoned and his velvet coat slung over his shoulder. Will snorted, "Normally, with clothes that fine, I would say you looked good, my friend, but not with you not completely dressed up in it."

Weatherby nodded sagely, "Yes indeed. By the way, Will, I have to say, you have most certainly outdone yourself with this blade, it is a masterpiece."

Catching on to the man's game, Will hid his humor as he replied, "Thank you for your kind words, sir. A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated."

"Would it be suffice to say that you are nearing the end of your apprenticeship, then? Once you do, then I would be happy to provide support for you to open up your own workshop. With your skills, you would certainly succeed in making a name for yourself."

"You are too kind, sir. I am not deserving of such a generous offer—"

Losing his patience, Elijah snapped, "Stop talking as if I am not here, Will. The same goes to you, father. I am still miffed at you, by the way."

His father sighed theatrically, "How uncouth of you, Elijah! Sometimes I wonder which of you is the governor's son here, it is as if William here is the nobleman instead of you, my horribly rude son."

Despite the derogatory words, the almost laughing way the man said it only succeeded in making the two young men chuckle, their former irritation all but gone in the face of such good-natured teasing.

Casting a glance towards the waiting coach outside, Weatherby stated almost regretfully, "We really must be going, Elijah. You can straighten up on our way to the fort." Picking up the sword box, he gave a questioning look as his son turned towards him, and when he spoke, it was with a pleading tone, "Can I please follow Will to the workshop first, father? It's not like the ceremony will start soon, there's at least an hour left if we leave now. James wouldn't mind not seeing me before the ceremony starts. And I can straighten up at the workshop, so you don't have to worry about me not being presentable."

With a lifted eyebrow, he asked, "May I inquire as to why you want to do that, Elijah?"

The blond merely smiled sheepishly in return, and he let out a sigh, "Fine, I won't ask. But make sure that you won't be late. It is fortunate that the workshop is so close to the fort, so there should be no problem if you weren't present for the mingling before the ceremony."

Elijah grinned, "Why do you think I refused to go much earlier then, father?"

Weatherby shook his head in exasperation at his son's cheekiness as he made his way towards the waiting coach, "Don't be late, Elijah. Good day, Will."

"Good day, Sir!" Will replied, but his words were replaced by a yelp as Elijah pulled him impatiently, "Let's go, Will!"

"Can you at least stop tugging me so I can walk by myself, please?" The brunette yelled at the laughing blond who suddenly let him go as he sprinted towards the gates, and he ran in pursuit, slowing down only to bow towards the governor now sitting inside the coach before falling into step beside his best friend. Watching the two young men bicker down the road, the elder man shook his head in amusement at his son's antics. As the coach started to move away, he heard bits and pieces of the sentences exchanged between Will and Elijah, before they faded away in the distance.

"I had a dream about you last night!" "About me? That… is actually quite disturbing, mate." "Oh, shut it. It's about the day we met. Remember?" "How could I forget, Mr. Swann?"

* * *

A lone woman stood, the blowing winds somehow making her look even more impressive as she looked on with an almost bored gaze at the approaching port. With her long, bandanna-bound dark hair under a tricorne hat whipping around a finely sculpted face, the woman's beauty combined with the confident way she posed herself even on such a ridiculous place—a ship's mast, of all places—made for a mesmerizing display.

The moment of silence was broken, though, when she suddenly snapped her gaze downwards and immediately grabbed a rigging rope to slide down the mast. What should be a longer slide down, proved to be short as the mast she stood on was revealed to be a small boat's. With almost frantic movements, she grabbed a wooden pail and started bailing out the water leaking incessantly into the boat. Struggling slightly with the heavy weight of the water, she'd only bailed out a single pail before something caught her eye.

Standing up, she took off her hat and placed it above her heart in an exaggerated motion of respect at the skeletal remains of three pirates, hanging from the gallows of a rocky promontory still clad in their buccaneer clothes, though they were mere rags now on the decaying corpses. Her eyes zeroed in on a fourth gallows beside the three, occupied only by a sign proclaiming 'Pirates Ye Be Warned.' To the sign, she merely gave a two-fingered salute as the sinking boat continued sailing forward.

* * *

Beside a docked ship, sailors loaded various cargo onto it, ranging from gunpowder kegs to livestock with a few other men shouting instructions on where to place them and how to handle them, resulting in a very lively, if loud, atmosphere. But one by one, each of the rowdy sailors fell silent as they all stared at an honestly very peculiar sight.

On top of a rapidly sinking boat's mast, standing proudly as if without a care in the world, was a woman. They could only gape at her, only blinking when the boat sunk completely and the woman, with expert timing, nimbly stepped onto the dock. They continued to stare until it dawned on them that they should finish loading their ship, and their hastiness to finish their work took precedence over the strange sight of a stunningly beautiful woman docking a sinking ship. This would still make quite a story to be passed around as they sailed, though.


End file.
